


Rain

by fictyun



Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Genre: Best Friends Choi Soobin & Choi Yeonjun, Choi Soobin Aspires to be a Detective, Choi Yeonjun is a flirt if you squint hard enough, He has a handy dandy notepad idk, M/M, Mutual Pining, Prosopagnosia, Slow Burn, Whipped Choi Soobin, Yeonjun is Soobin's gay awakening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:40:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29353587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictyun/pseuds/fictyun
Summary: "Do you always stare at people like that?""I- pardon?" I wasn't sure what to reply since I didn't really expect him to approach me, much less to actually talk to me."You know, if you wanted to be friends, you could've just walked up and said hi." He said cooly. The boy stuck his hand out for a handshake, "I'm Yeonjun. I moved here 3 weeks ago."Alternatively, it's the one wherein Soobin is an aspiring detective and his friend Yeonjun invites him to dance in the rain.
Relationships: Choi Soobin/Choi Yeonjun
Comments: 13
Kudos: 70





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> oh god i can't believe im posting this but oh well, i hope you enjoy this old work of mine. written: july 22, 2019. ended: july 29, 2019.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a detective. I was fascinated by the genius minds of famous detectives such as Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, and Aguste Dupin. The works of Agatha Christie and Edgar Allan Poe were easily my favourite reads. There was something about the thrill that coursed through my veins and the adrenaline that pumped in my heart that drew me to the idea of solving mystery cases and catching elusive rogues.

If there's anything I learned from the plethora of novels and documentaries that I consumed, it's that people who have a career in espionage or forensics have a high level of intellect and are very observant of their surroundings. With that in mind, I strived to be the best in all my classes so that I could get into a prestigious university. I also became more watchful of my surroundings and the people around me. During my spare time, I would go to the park and write about the people and things I observed. I spent a great part of my childhood summers in that park, sitting quietly in one of the benches and writing down the things that seemed interesting to me and describing the people that caught my attention.

During my time in that park, I watched and observed a large number of people and objects. However, there was one particular person that caught my attention. It was a boy my age, give or take a few years. He didn't seem familiar to me when I first saw him, so I surmised that he had just recently moved to the neighborhood. The thing about him that drew me the most was his carefree nature. The way he would let his head fall back as he laughed unabashedly and how he'd embody his emotions in expressive hand gestures; all these acted as a window that enabled me to learn more about the persona this boy possessed. I wrote about him often. It was my way of getting to know him from afar.

From what I had observed about him, he came to the park every Wednesday and Friday afternoon to join the little dance group held by one of the park officials and then spent the remainder of the day playing in the fields. The boy was good at  dancing. I could tell that he was, despite not knowing how to dance myself. I could see it in his face. His movements were fluid and the way his face held onto each emotion that best suited the song showed his heartfelt passion.

One Friday, the boy caught me observing him. I guess he knew for a while but didn't really say anything. I remember him approaching me with a questioning look in his eye. He was sweaty from playing in the fields based on how his shirt clung on to his tall frame. He asked me what I was doing and why I was watching him.

"Do you always stare at people like that?"

"I- pardon?" I wasn't sure what to reply since I didn't really expect him to approach me, much less to actually talk to me.

"You know, if you wanted to be friends, you could've just walked up and said hi." He said cooly. The boy stuck his hand out for a handshake, "I'm Yeonjun. I moved here 3 weeks ago."

"Oh, hi." I reached out and shook his hand.

"Well, aren't you going to tell me your name?" He asks me, a smile spreading across his face. He had a wonderful smile. I knew it was wonderful because my mum told me that the most beautiful smiles are those that reach your eyes. The boy's smile was just like that. His smile reached his eyes making them look like two crescents.  _ Cute _ .

"Right. Sorry, I'm Soobin. I uh- I'm sorry if I came off rude by watching you."

"It's okay." Yeonjun takes a seat beside me on the park bench and leans over to see what's in my notepad. "What's that for?"

"I can't tell you," I quickly hold my notepad close to my chest to hide it from him. "It's top secret detective stuff!"

"That isn't fair," Yeonjun laments. His lips pushed forward to form a pout and his shoulders sag in disappointment. He folds his arms across his chest. "I want to see what's inside."

"Yeah well, it's for private eyes only." I tell him firmly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that it's for trusted people only." I explain to him.

Yeonjun's face brightens up at that. "Let's be friends!" He says excitedly.

"What? Why?"

"Well, you said that your notepad was for trusted people only. Friends trust each other, don't they?" Yeonjun asks.

"They do."

"So then," Yeonjun holds out his hand once again. "Let's be friends!"

I look at his outstretched hand to him, then back again.

"Okay." I say finally, shaking his hand firmly. Yeonjun smiles even further. He opens his mouth as if he was about to say something else but the sky erupted into a sudden rainshower. We both looked up to the sky as raindrops fell around us. I immediately hide my notepad in my pocket to keep it from getting drenched in the rain. As I scrambled to find shelter, I heard Yeonjun mumble something.

"What?"

"I said," He looked up to the sky and held his hand out to feel the raindrops dripping onto his palm, "have you ever danced in the rain?"

"I- no. I've not, actually." I look at him curiously. I lift my arms to cover my head as the rain starts to fall faster and pour heavier. "I'm not fond of getting my clothes wet. That and the thought of my mum yelling at me for ruining my trousers with mud." 

Yeonjun laughs at that, his body shakes with the wave of happiness. He takes in a breath and exhales with a puff of air. He returns his gaze to me.

"Alright then." That's all Yeonjun says before he walks off in the opposite direction.

I watch his retreating form for another moment then I run all the way back home. The thought of my mum scolding me for getting drenched in the rain is pushed to the back of my mind by the image of Yeonjun standing serenely under the rain.

Needless to say, I made a new friend that day.


	2. two

Back in middle school, I read that detectives had a knack for easily recognising faces. They would train by memorising distinct features or markings in other people's faces and movements.

That's how I spent my free time in eighth grade. I would be in the school courtyard silently watching the people around me, just as I had done in the park back then. I've learned to look at the smaller details of people's faces that tend to go unnoticed. I've also learned to recognise someone by their mannerisms.

For example, the janitor that did his rounds in the hallway in front of our class had a distinct button nose that he would scrunch in distaste whenever a piece of rubbish was left scattered on the ground. Our science teacher had a subtle scar on his left temple and tended to stutter his words when he was unsure of something. I preferred to observe people in the school courtyard rather than anywhere else because that's the place where they would usually drop their masks and act freely amongst their friends.

During these times, Yeonjun would sit beside me and chatter animatedly about the new dance troupe that formed in the campus. We spent our free time like this. I would sit and write on my trusty notepad while Yeonjun would share about his day. Sometimes, he would get really excited and he'd go on about his day for hours. I didn't mind it. To be honest, I enjoyed listening to him talk about his day. The way his face would shift from one expression to another as he talked was amusing to me. He balanced out my quiet demeanor.

"You've observed the entire student body, but not once paid attention to me? Ah, Soobinie, I'm hurt!" Yeonjun says suddenly, feigning a heartache and dramatically tossing his body on me.

"Aish, hyung, get off of me! You're heavy." I push him off of me and straighten out my crumpled notepad. The older boy just laughs. "I do pay attention to you, I listen to your chattering."

"My chattering?" Yeonjun questions incredulously.

"Mhm."

"Wah, really, this boy." Yeonjun tuts dismissively but a small grin tugs at his lips. "So what have you been up to? Have you observed any new people?"

"Nah. Just the same old." I reply. A comfortable silence settles between us and I hummed contentedly. We've gotten used to this routine of ours. We enjoy each other's company despite our different demeanors.

"Soobin-ah, don't you get bored?"

"Of what?" I look back at Yeonjun, my head tilted to the side.

"Of this. You know, watching people. Doesn't it get boring?" He asks, gesturing to the students hanging out in the school courtyard.

"Hm, well, not really. There are actually some interesting things that you can pick up by observing people."

"You're really taking this detective thing seriously, huh," Yeonjun says with a chuckle. "You're weird."

I smile at his words. I know that he doesn't mean it insultingly. A thought suddenly pops up in my mind. I turn to face Yeonjun and see him staring out into the school courtyard. "How about you, though. Don't you get bored?" I asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Of what, dancing?" He throws the question back at me nonchalantly, thinking that I was referring to his interest in dance.

"No, me."

Yeonjun turns to me with a surprised look on his face. "Soobin, where's this coming from?" He asked, his tone sounding concerned.

I bit my lip. "It's plain to see that our interests differ greatly. So do our personalities. I mean look at you, you're quite outgoing and you don't shy away from claiming the spotlight. Meanwhile I'm just...me. Even the whole basis of our friendship stemmed from you just wanting to read my notepad because you were curious about it."

"Yeah, because I found it interesting." He interjects.

"The contents of my notepad are interesting, not me." I argue.

"The contents of that notepad are written by you, therefore making you an interesting person!" Yeonjun argues.

We're both silent for a moment. I've never really thought about how he felt about me before. I just accepted his company without question and went with it. Now that the idea of him probably bored out of his mind with me has been presented, I couldn't help but feel bad about it. I slowly start to regret our conversation and prepare to change the subject when Yeonjun shifts his position to face me completely.

"Soobin-ah, please don't think hyung will ever get bored of you." He says in a very serious tone. "You may not agree with me, but you're more interesting than you let on."

I look at Yeonjun with my eyebrows raised. There's an odd feeling within my chest. He smiles at me.

"Even if I become a world famous dancer, you'd still be the most interesting person to me."

"A world famous dancer. Really?" I ask monotonously.

"Yah! There's nothing wrong with dreaming, Soobin." Yeonjun berates me half-heartedly. We both laugh. I try imagining Yeonjun as a world renowned performer.

" _ Legendary Idol, Choi Yeonjun _ . It has a nice ring to it." I say after a while. We both sit in comfortable silence.

"You know despite your doubts, I believe you'd make a good detective, Soobin." Yeonjun says suddenly.

"How so?"

He shrugs. "Well firstly, you're very smart. You're ahead of us in most classes. Secondly, you're very diligent. You've been very loyal to studying as much as you can about forensics, all while managing to balance your social life and academics. That's impressive!"

I smile and avert my gaze to my worn out shoes. "Aish! Hyung, it's nothing. I just enjoy learning about detectives and reading mystery novels." I go to ruffle his hair but I think against it and opt to pat his thigh awkwardly instead. I can feel my face heat up from his compliments.  _ Damn you, Choi Yeonjun _ .

  
"What do you mean _it's nothing_?" He questions, signing air quotes at my words, "Soobin, I see how passionate you are with this. You spend so much time doing legitimate research on autobiographies of detectives, both fictional and  non-fictional. You also make sure to stay at the top of the honour roll to ensure a good shot in a prestigious university. I doubt that this is just nothing."

I look back at him and see the satisfied grin on his face. Yeonjun knows that I agree with his words, albeit begrudgingly. I opened my mouth to retort but then a crack of thunder broke the serenity of the atmosphere.

The students around us run back inside the school to take cover from the rain. I grab my items and stand up to do the same when I notice Yeonjun walking to the open space. He stands in the clearing and smiles at the sky. He allows the rain to cover him in droplets.

"Aigoo! Hyung, what on earth are you doing? You'll get sick, I'm telling you!" I shout as I run to him. I take off my school cardigan and use it as a makeshift umbrella. "Aish, this kid!" Yeonjun pays no mind to my warning.

"Soobin-ah," He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as he enjoyed the rain cascading down his face, "have you ever danced in the rain?" He brings his head down and looks at me with a fond smile as he waits for my reply.

"Not really, no," I tell him. I'm eager to get back inside the building so as not to get drenched in the rain, "Can we go back inside now?"

Yeonjun sighs and rests his forehead on my shoulder. "You're such a spoil sport, Binie," He says cheekily. I force a frown on my face though it proves to be difficult with a flustered smile threatening to creep up on my face.

"Race you back to the hallway!" Yeonjun yells suddenly before taking off in a sudden dash. I’m left to run in order to catch up with him.

Unbeknownst to me, the beating of my heart thumps faster than my footfalls.


	3. three

One of the main reasons for a detective's success is their dedication to their work. They show their efforts by pouring their time and energy in working late hours of the evening and having a strong sense of dedication despite the difficulty of their career.

I learned this early on in my first year at the university. True to my efforts, I managed to land a good scholarship in a prestigious university under the degree of Criminology Research. I've been studying as much as I can about detective work at such an early age, but it doesn't compare to legitimately learning about what goes on behind the scenes.

In order for me to keep up with the workload, I had to dedicate all my time and energy towards the course. It gets exhausting mentally and physically due to the workload, but it's good. I enjoy it despite the stress.

I must admit that it feels different without Yeonjun constantly beside me. I've gotten used to his presence around me during my free time. He'd usually be there to accompany me during lunch period and share about his day while I eat silently and observe my surroundings.

Speaking of Yeonjun, he enrolled in a different university and pursued his passion for performative arts under the degree of contemporary and modern dance.

We've tried to maintain contact between each other but the differences in our schedules make it difficult to do so. Our conversations get shorter and our replies take longer to send. We rarely have time to properly meet up, but we understand. I understand how hectic Yeonjun's rehearsal schedule is, and he understands the amount of dedication I put towards my degree.

It isn't until my second year in university that Yeonjun and I get to meet up again properly. I received an email from him one night asking if I was interested to watch his dance recital. Luckily enough, I was free on the given date. I type up a quick email accepting his invitation. Yeonjun's reply is swift and I chuckle to myself at his ecstatic response. I had a feeling that this meet up would be good for the both of us.

Yeonjun's dance recital goes swimmingly. I was blown away by how much he has changed and improved in his craft. His movements seemed to be more graceful and heartfelt, his eyes and emotions were more expressive, and his passion shone through even more.

I approach him after the show and congratulate him on the success of his recital. Yeonjun wraps me in a tight hug and gives his thanks. He invited me out for a drink in order for us to catch up on the things we've missed. I later find out that not everything about Yeonjun has changed.

The bar and resto that we went to served us good meals that were decently priced. The ambience of the place was welcoming enough. It was retro themed with various neon signs hung all over the place. Yeonjun chooses a spot for us in a booth beside the window of the resto. We take a seat and immediately start chatting about various things we've missed out on each other's lives while we wait for our meals to arrive.

"So, looks like you really took the detective thing seriously, Soobin-ah." Yeonjun states. His voice is a little timid but I brush it off due to the nerves that's taken over the both of us. It's both new and nostalgic to be talking to each other again after losing contact due to our hectic schedules.

  
"Yeah, I realized that it was more than just a hobby some time after our graduation," I say eagerly. No matter how long it's been, I can never grow tired of the thought that I am now a step closer to fulfilling my passion. "Although to be honest with you, I've known way back then that this was— _is_ what I wanted. You  know, working with detectives and all that. I just wasn't sure if I was good enough."

"Of course you were, Soobin! And you still are. I mean, look at you," He says gesturing at me. I lift my one of my brows and look at him curiously, "You've come so far from being that lanky kid that secluded himself by watching people from afar, to a fine young man pursuing a degree in..." He trails off and gestures for me to continue his sentence.

"Criminology." I supply.

"Criminology!" Yeonjun finishes. There's a pleased smile at his face but then it morphs into a look of surprise, "Wow, really? What happened to forensic science?"

"Oh, that. Well, I definitely did consider it. It was my first choice actually. I just— I didn't make the cut. There was a cut off in the amount of enrollees and I wasn't one of the applicants." I tell him with a sad smile.

"What, really? That sucks. Hyung, you would've done really well in that degree! I've seen your dedication towards the career first hand." Yeonjun laments. His lips pushed forward to form a pout and his shoulders sag in disappointment. I smile to myself at his response. Despite being in his second year of university, Yeonjun still has some of his mannerisms from his childhood. It's endearing to see that some things never change.

"Ah, don't worry about it though," I reassure him comfortingly, "I'm actually happy with the degree I'm in now. I know that it isn't exactly forensic science, but I've come to appreciate the things that I do in criminology."

Yeonjun hums in understanding. "Criminology, huh?" He supplies after a thought, "It has a nice ring to it." He beams and I stare longer than I should. I smile at his words and murmur a quiet thanks. Our food arrives at that moment and we thank  our server. We dig into our respective meals and sigh contentedly at the savoury taste.

"So," I continue after a bite of my meal, "Enough about me. How have you been, hyung? I see that you've also chosen to follow your passion. If your performance earlier was anything to go by, I'd say you're a step closer to becoming  _ Legendary Idol Choi Yeonjun _ now." I say amusedly, reminiscing our middle school banter.

Yeonjun looks up while he is halfway through slurping up his jjajangmyeon. His eyes peer at me from beneath his lashes and his eyebrows are raised in curiosity. It's cute.

_ He's cute _ .

I quickly averted my gaze to my meal and cleared my throat.

"You think so?" He asks between mouthfuls of noodles.

"Y-yeah! You did great back there." I stuttered out.  _ Man, I am whipped _ . Yeonjun sits up and pushes his hair back, revealing his forehead. His tongue darts out to lick away the sauce on his lips.

"You look good." I say dumbly. Yeonjun raises a brow in question.

"O-on stage, I mean. It's as if you were born to perform." I rush out, my charming bravado from earlier dissipating rapidly.  _ Way to go on that A plus conversation, Soobin _ . I quickly gulp down the remainder of my soju to refrain myself from saying anything else.

Yeonjun laughs at my actions. The exact same laugh he had from years ago. His smile still reached to his eyes, forming them into the same two crescents and his shoulders shudder at the wave of laughter that bursts through.

"I'm being honest," I say with a sheepish smile. Yeonjun calms down from his fit of laughter and sighs contentedly, "You did really well, hyung."

"Thank you, Soobin. I appreciate that." He says with an easy smile, "By the way, you look good too."

I look up from my meal and stare at Yeonjun quizzically. He holds my gaze for a moment, winks, then goes back to his meal. I notice that there's a hint of blush creeping across his cheeks, but it's probably just the ambience lighting and the soju taking effect.

"You look better, hyung." I answer. I have to force myself to hide the redness that threatens to spread across my face. We smile at each other and continue our meal in between light hearted chatter of what we've been up to in the past year.


	4. four

One key characteristic of a detective is their cautiousness. They make sure to keep vigilant of their surroundings and approach most things with caution. This was a characteristic that had been engrained to those taking up a career in criminology, forensics, and the like. I guess that's what I lacked.

No matter how many times we've been trained to be more vigilant, to be more cautious, I've always been a clumsy person. If only I had better coordination or a swifter response, then I wouldn't be in the situation I'm in right now.

_ Fuck. _

How long has it been exactly? A glance at my calendar shows that it's been nearly three months since my accident. It was a hit-and-run. I remember walking down the pedestrian lane when a very bright light suddenly shone from my side accompanied with the sound of tires screeching. I wasn't even able to comprehend what was happening before feeling a dull thud to my left side. The next thing I remember is the faint pulsing of brightness above me coming from the hospital lights as I moved in and out of consciousness while I was being rushed to the emergency department.

The officials who viewed the traffic footage noted that it was a drunk driver. His car drove 120 miles in a 70 mile zone. The next thing they saw was my body getting hit then thrown back to the pavement, my head crashing into a fire hydrant. They see the car stop for a moment, then drive away as if nothing happened.

I honestly don't remember much detail about the incident except for what I've been told. It's better that way. I've been struggling to cope with the consequences of the accident. I doubt I could handle the memory of the entire incident.

I remember waking up four days after my accident with a throbbing pain to my head, only to be greeted with the sight of a distraught stranger seated in front of my hospital bed. I remember asking them who they were and where I was. The level of shock I got when the stranger introduced themselves as my mother made my battered head spin.

“Soobin, it's me. Your eomma. How are you feeling? I should call the docto–”

“I– you...you don't...look like anyone I know.” The woman– my mother looks at me for a moment. Her eyes widen and her breathing hitches.

“Don't you remember me, Binie?” Her voice is strained and takes a worried tone. I don't have the chance to answer her as my eyelids close and my exhausted body accepts the strong pull of sleep. The last thing I hear before blacking out is the fading sound of my mother calling for the doctor.

I spent the following weeks recuperating and undergoing a series of examinations to determine the doctor's final prognosis. I was diagnosed with Apperceptive Prosopagnosia not long after. I still remember the sinking feeling of dread I got after hearing the doctor explain his findings to my mother while I helplessly listened to their hushed conversation in my hospital room.

“Your son is very blessed to have survived such an impact, it's amazing that he didn't sustain any major injuries upon the collision. However, I am saddened to say that the trauma he accumulated left him with apperceptive prosopagnosia.”

“What does that mean?”

“The simplest way I can put it is that your son has acquired an impairment in facial perception. The impact of the collision has left him unable to recognise nor differentiate people's faces. Himself included. Your son won't be able to make sense of faces and is unable to differentiate faces between each other. However, his other aspects of visual processing and intellectual functioning remain intact.”

“Is there any cure for this? Maybe some kind of medication that my son can take?”

“I’m afraid that there are still no widely accepted treatments for prosopagnosia. It's not a very well known impairment.”

My mother nods numbly and gives her thanks as the doctor excuses himself from the room. She takes a few moments for herself as the weight of my situation finally registers in her head. She then noticed me staring and she plastered a faint smile on her face before leaving me alone in the room. I hear her muffled sobs from outside not long after.

The doctor's statement still plagues me until now. I try my best to avoid thinking about my situation, but it isn't as easy as I want it to be. To this day, I still wake up and hope that everything was just a bad dream. I would often get my hopes up with the false reality my mind would come up with.

I'd imagine that one day, I'll get better. One day, I'll look at my mother's face and I'll be able to recognise her without a hint of doubt. But then I'm pulled back into the horrid reality of my situation whenever I see a stranger staring right back at me when I look in the mirror.

My therapist says I'm lucky that it wasn't anything worse like paralysis or death. At this point, I would've preferred the latter. I still blame myself for it sometimes. She reminds me that it isn't my fault. The driver shouldn't have been driving while under the influence. But my mind insists otherwise. If only I had paid attention to where I was going, then maybe I would've seen the car and moved back at the right time.

I've drawn back from socialising since then. I haven't been in contact with people outside my family for nearly two months. I've had some relatives come to visit only for their stay to be cut short by me wordlessly retreating back to my room. I  can't bear the weight on my shoulders of being unable to recognise those that I hold dear.

I received a message from Yeonjun recently. “ _ How are you these days? _ ” It read.

It's an innocent question but the pain I feel is unmistakable. He doesn't know about my accident. Not much of my friends know. I'm tempted to tell him everything but I think against it. I don't want him seeing me like this. I fell asleep to the sound of the rain that same night. The weather seemed to sympathize with my mood. It's a rainy night, and as the rain knocks at my bedroom window, it hits my heart.

How have I been these days? I feel different. Everything is different. Nothing and no one is the same. It's a strange world.

When I was younger, I dreamed of being a detective. I have to let go of that dream now.


	5. five

In the last year since the accident, my life has changed drastically. I’ve made a great deal of adjustments to my surroundings to help cope with the impairment.

My mum first suggested that I hang portraits of friends and family members with names written below to help me recognize them easier. It feels weird looking at them; It's like looking at a different person. I know who they are, my brain just doesn't register them as people I’ve encountered before. Whenever I see the names written on sticky notes at the bottom of the frame, I'm reassured that the people in the photographs aren't actual strangers.

My mum also bought me a camera. She said that it could encourage me to take photographs of the things, places, and people that I find interesting.

“What's this for?” I held the small camera in my hands. I tilted it around carefully, inspecting the small gadget.

“I bought that camera for you, Soobin.” She explains while setting the table up for lunch, “The doctor said that since there aren't really any proper treatments for your impairment, I figured that maybe capturing images and looking back at them would help you.”

“But eomma, you heard what the doctors said, right? I won't be able to differentiate between faces, even in pictures.” I stand up from my seat and set the camera down at the dining table.

“I know that. But I've been reading online and there's this thing that prosopagnosics learn to develop,” I sigh at her words and turn to walk away, but she presses on. My mum goes through her words carefully. She can sense that I don't like these kinds of conversations, “Piecemeal, they call it. You use the small details of a person's features to help you recognize them. Isn't that one of your hobbies when you were younger?”

Her last statement catches my attention and I stop in my tracks.

“It won't hurt to try.” She says slowly. I roll my eyes and turn back to face my mother. My heart sinks when I see the tell-tale signs of sadness enveloping her. A small frown on her face, her head is slightly tilted downwards, and her shoulders sagged.

Ever since I lost the ability to properly distinguish faces, I've learned to rely on the smaller details of a person's body language to help me read them. It's very reminiscent of what I've been doing when I was younger. The only difference is, I don't remember anything I've taken note of once the person I'm observing walks away.

I sigh and trudge towards my mother. She holds the camera in her hands and passes it to me.

“Soobin-ah,” Her voice is softer, more gentle and resigned, “Please use the camera. It might help you in recognising places and people easier.”

“But eomma–”

“I know you're tired, son. But please, at least give this a try?” I look at the camera in my hands for a moment. I sigh and nodded at her words to appease her worry.

“Okay.” I return to my seat at the table. There's a relieved smile on my mother's face when I look at her. For the sake of my mother's happiness, I agree to her pleas.

To this day, I have yet to use the camera.

I've also been seeing a psychologist. The doctors recommended that I go see one to keep track of my mental and emotional well-being after the accident. It somehow helps to have someone to listen to my thoughts and make sense of them for me.

Ever since the incident, I've seemed to lose my sense of identity. My body and mind feels empty. It's as if something's been taken away. I don’t know if I have a lot of thoughts or no thoughts at all. My thoughts and emotions just seem to blend into a confusing, grey puddle.

My therapist told me that walking around and taking time for myself would be healthy. He says that by doing so, I could slowly start re-familiarizing myself with my surroundings and the people around me. I contemplate on taking up my therapist’s suggestion. I open my bedroom window to check the weather outside.

Oddly enough, the ambience outside seemed to mirror what’s inside my apartment. The sky is set in a morose disposition. Despite the clear skies, the air is thick with gloominess. It's another rainy day in Seoul and the neighborhood seems to be void of the gentle caress of the wind’s breeze. There's a mind-numbing silence and an obscene omnipresence of stillness lingering amongst the trees and buildings.

I throw on a plain brown overcoat and slip on my well-worn chucks. I grab the camera from its place on my bedside table and head for the door. Before heading out the apartment, I call out a quick goodbye to my mother as I grab an umbrella beside the coat rack. Once outside, I take a good look of the city life that's laid out before me. I draw in a quick breath and open my umbrella and lift it above my head.

Without another thought, I take a step into the rain.


	6. six

The sound of the camera shutter blends with ease amongst the rain shower. Around me, the scenic view of my childhood park takes on a cold atmosphere because of the rain. The benches placed around the park are covered in little droplets, while the concrete pavement is littered with varying sizes of puddles. The sky remains the dull colour of grey but it matches the solemn mood of the park.

I've decided to retrace my steps back to this park. It seems fitting for my life to go on full circle as I return to the place where I first started to learn how to observe and familiarize myself with people's faces. A wave of nostalgia hits me as I walk around the familiar path that's filled with unfamiliar faces. I wonder to myself how many of these people were faces I once easily recognised.

I walk further into the park to look for something _interesting_ to photograph like my mum told me. So far, not much has caught my attention; Save for a few plants and beetles— but they aren't exactly people with features I could familiarize myself with.

I continue walking around the park and observing the people around me. I've noticed that despite the rain there are still people spending their time in the park. There's a sense of bittersweetness seeing people go on about their lives without a hint of worry; The look of nonchalance on their face as they comfortably greet one another as they pass by or the bright smiles that spread on their faces when they see someone they know. It's such a simple experience, to recognize people I know, yet it's so easily taken for granted.

As I near the edge of the park, a particular scene catches my attention. Inside the park’s white gazebo is a young man with blue hair, probably in his early twenties, teaching a small group of children a dance move. I grinned to myself as I reminisced about the times in my childhood when I would observe the park officials teach the neighborhood children how to dance.

I balance my umbrella in between my shoulder and chin as I try to capture a photo of the scene before me. I look at the picture I've taken and frown when I see how poor the quality is.

I walk up to the gazebo and take a seat on one of the benches that's placed inside. I lift the camera to my face and focus the lens onto the scene in front of me. The shutter of my camera rings clearer inside the gazebo where the rain is muted. The white-painted roof of the structure serves as a buffer that muffles the falling of rain. I smiled to myself when I saw that the picture’s quality was clearer.

I observe the dancer for a moment longer now that I'm a closer distance. I take in the way his body moves along so fluidly to an invisible rhythm, and the way his eyes shone with passion. I look fondly at how he interacts so gently with the children he's teaching. He listens closely to what they have to say and smiles brightly at their enthusiasm.

I guess I've been staring at them for too long because I suddenly noticed the children waving goodbye to the pink-haired dancer as he slowly approaches me with a warm smile.

“Do you always stare at people like that?” He asks light-heartedly.

“Pardon?”

“You know, walking up to say hi would be preferable.” He continues. The dancer walks towards me and pushes his hair away from his face.

I looked around to see if he was talking to someone else. “Are you talking to me?” I ask, gesturing towards myself.

“Mhm!” He chuckles.

“Oh,” I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Sorry. I uh- I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It's okay, it's not the first time.” The dancer replies with a cheeky smile. I look at him quizzically. He says nothing and takes a seat next to me.

It's silent for a while then he speaks up. “Since when did you become a photographer?”

“Oh, I'm not- This isn't- I'm actually in a criminology degree,” There's a look of amusement on his face as I stumble across my words. “Well, I used to be in a criminology course, but that isn't the point.”

The dancer’s smile falters at that. His eyebrows furrowed at my last statement but he didn't say anything.

“This is just a uh, hobby of sorts.” I finish with uncertainty while pointing at my camera. The dancer nods once then shifts in his seat to face me.

“Wait, so you're no longer in criminology?” He asks. His tone is surprised.

“N-no…” My heart sinks at the thought. “Not anymore.”

“Why?” He presses on. I'm quite surprised by his curiosity.

“It's a long story.” I say with a dejected laugh. He doesn't say anything more. He looks away and faces forward. There's a long moment of silence and the sound of the rain from outside lingers through the atmosphere.

“So, you must be the new dance instructor?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Ah, no.” He says, waving his hands dismissively. “I was just practicing my routine when these kids suddenly showed up. They asked me to teach them how to do a pirouette.” The dancer laughs and it feels so carefree. His shoulders shudder with glee and his eyes squint up into crescents. “It's adorable, really.”

There's a pang in my chest and the wheels in my head start to turn. There's something about him that's so familiar but I can't seem to place it. I can tell that this person knows me, based on how easily he warmed up to me. Which means that I know this person too, or at least have had a decent interaction with him in the past. My problem is, I don't recognize him. Nor do I recall knowing anyone with blue hair.

I contemplate on whether or not it would be rude to ask if I know him. I don't want to come off as arrogant by implying that I have no recollection of this person being a part of my life.

“I'm sorry, I really don't want to offend you– and I really, really hope that you don't take this the wrong way, but– do I know you? You seem to be really familiar with me and so I figured that I know who you are. It's just– I don't recognize you.”

The dancer straightens in his seat as he listens through my sudden word vomit. His eyebrows raised in surprise and he laughs sheepishly at my sudden outburst of questions.

“Wah, Soobin. Has one year really done that much of a difference to me?” He asks in a light-hearted manner. “I know that we've been really busy with our academics but I didn't think you'd forget how I looked!” He doesn't sound mad at all; it's more of amusement. He didn't understand what I meant.

“Maybe it's my new hair colour? I knew blue would be too shocking but Beomgyu sai—”

“—I have prosopagnosia.” I cut him off. I internally braced myself for the usual barrage of questions that follow after I tell people about my impairment. It takes a second or two of astonished silence before I realize that there aren't any follow up questions. I glance towards the dancer seated to my left and notice him staring right back at me.

“What?” He schools his expression into a serious one. The smile on his face slowly disappears.

“I have prosopagnosia.” I repeat. “It's an impairment that messes up my facial recognition ability.”

“I'm not sure I understand.” He says, the confusion evident in his tone.

“I don't really understand it either.” I say with an emotionless chuckle. “The simplest way I can put it is, I lost the ability to recognise and differentiate people’s faces. Everyone’s like a stranger to me— Well, some are actually strangers, but even those I know have become a stranger to me. Literally.”

He's gone quiet. His disposition has become more serious. I see it in the way his lips are pressed into a straight line and the way his gaze is pointed directly at me. I break away from his stare and focus onto the raindrops that continuously fall to the ground outside. My hands fidget around on the camera that's rested on my lap.

The silence builds up around us. Not even the sound of the rain seems to drown it.

“The doctors said that prosopagnosia is more often found congenitally. I happened to get mine through an accident.” I slowly engage into a one-sided conversation to lessen the awkward tension in the air. I feel him shift in his seat. “It's not a widely known impairment, there's not even a treatment for it. We have to depend on distinct features to help recognize others.”

I plaster a small grin on my face to ease the tension but it's gone just as quick. “I understand if you find it ridiculous— Trust me, I do too. I've just learned to cope with it. Barely, if I'm being honest, but I'm slowly starting to.”

“So you don't remember me?” His voice is softer this time. The sadness in his voice is clear as day.

“Well, I can't say that I do, because it's hard to remember something you don't recognize,” The dancer's frown deepens. “But maybe if there's something about you that could help me recognize you, I'll be able to remember.”

I hear the dancer sigh beside me as he stands up from where he's seated. I look up to see him staring out into the park behind us. There's a thoughtful look on his face as he seems to go over my words.

“I'll help you recognize me.” He says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You don't recognize me, correct?” He questions. There's a glint in his eyes that I can't explain.

“Correct.” I agree with uncertainty.

“Then I'll help you recognize me.” There's a change in his tone. It's no longer serious and tight. It's become more relaxed and outgoing as his voice takes on a slightly higher pitch. It's almost playful.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” I ask. I'm genuinely curious to see what the blue-haired dancer has in his mind.

The dancer doesn't say anything. Instead, he takes my hands into his and pulls me upwards. He pulls me out the gazebo and into the open space of the rainy park. I go to open my umbrella to shield myself and the camera from the rain when the blue-haired boy tugs the umbrella away.

“Yah! Why are you taking away my umbrella? I need that to keep dry fro—”

“—Soobin!” He interrupts me, a small bubble of laughter escaping his lips.

“I need to keep dry from the rain.” I continue, reaching forward to grab the umbrella from his hands.

“Soobin!” He holds the umbrella behind his back to hide it from me.

“My mum’s gonna yell at me.” I focus my gaze at my umbrella that he's holding behind his back

“Aish, Soobin-ah, listen to me!” He berates half-heartedly in between chuckles. “Yah, you really are stubborn.”

A look of indignation flashes on my face when his words register in my mind. I open my mouth to retaliate but he beats me to it.

“Have you ever played in the rain, Soobinie?” He questions in a rushed manner.

“I— what?” I stop. I avert my gaze from the umbrella and look at him instead. “What did you say?”

The smile on his face grows wider and brighter. “I said,” He starts again slowly. “Have you ever played in the rain, Soobinie.”

I stare at him as his words race around in my head. He lifts his head to the sky and smiles. And it all crashes into me.

“Yeonjun.” That's all I can manage to say.

“Yes,” He looks back at me and smiles. “It's me, Yeonjun. Do you want to pla—”

Yeonjun doesn't get to finish his sentence because I've tackled him into a hug. He lets out a surprised gasp as I throw my entire weight on him. We almost slip on the rain but I quickly regain our balance. I pull away from our brace and straighten my posture.

“I'm sorry, I should've recognized you earlier. It's just that I haven't seen you in so long and your hair– It's different and I didn't know—”

“—It’s okay, Soobin.” Yeonjun cuts me off. His happiness is evident in his tone. “It's okay. I understand.”

I smile with relief in his words and I pull him into my arms for a warm embrace. Yeonjun instantly melts into the hug and wraps his arms around my shoulders. I can feel him smiling at the embrace. We stay like that, hugging in silence in the rain, none of us caring about our clothes getting wet.

“I've missed you, Soobin.” Yeonjun says softly in the embrace. My smile widens even more and I hold him tighter.

“So did I.”

When I was younger, I wanted to become a detective. I've read that they're known for recognising people despite them wearing disguises that make them unrecognisable. They do this by remembering the subtle traits, like their mannerisms or something only that person would say.

My prosopagnosia might have given you a disguise that I can never remove and I may no longer be able to recognize your face; But I will never forget you, Choi Yeonjun.

– _finite_ –


End file.
